


something happens (and i'm head over heels)

by midnightroom



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Coming Out, F/M, Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Post-Canon, School Dances, he deserves it, this was really just an excuse for me to write will enjoying himself at a school dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-24 04:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13803699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightroom/pseuds/midnightroom
Summary: The Hawkins High winter dance is coming up, and all Will knows is that he doesn't want to dance with anyone who isn't Mike.





	something happens (and i'm head over heels)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this took AGES to write but uhh here you go!
> 
> it's set about one year after season 2, when the kids are all in their freshman year of high school and the winter dance is coming up! the title is taken from [head over heels](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CsHiG-43Fzg) by tears for fears, which is iconic and lovely and also happens to have been released the same year as the dance (and possibly makes an appearance there!)
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy part one! <3

Their first high school dance was coming up.

Will could sense the excitement in the air, somehow more charged than it had been in middle school. Girls flocked in groups and chattered excitedly about who had a date; boys nervously fixed their hair before diving in and asking out the girls they liked.

Will observed them from afar and wondered what it was like, to feel the excitement of being asked to the dance or asking someone out, the anticipation of it.

His friends mostly didn't seem to think it was such a big deal, but even they were looking forward to it, Will knew.

Max and Lucas held hands a lot these days and it wasn't even a question if they would go together.

(One time, Lucas had remarked in some conversation that they weren't dating yet. Max had rolled her eyes and assured him that they were, and a heated debate about whether it counted if no one had officially asked the other out had commenced.

In the end they had decided that they were, in fact, boyfriend and girlfriend. They were stupid and in love and Will was happy for them.)

Dustin didn't seem to mind not having a date—yet.

("This year," he had vowed, "I'll ask a girl to dance with me and she'll fall head over heels. Even Steve thinks so."

Will did too. Dustin had gotten taller and his baby fat had started melting away, but he was as sweet as ever; Will was sure that there was at least one girl who would want to slow-dance with him.)

That left Mike and Eleven. They would go together, of course.

(They had been practically attached at the hip since El was finally allowed to leave the confines of Hopper's house, finally allowed to attend school and live out a life as normal as was possible for someone like her.)

Will liked Eleven very much. She had saved his life not once but _twice_ , and there was a sort of comfort in knowing that out of everyone, she understood the most what he had seen in the Upside Down, how he had felt when the Shadow Monster had taken over. He was indebted to her forever, and grateful that he could talk to her about almost anything, all the nightmares and memories the two of them didn't share with the others.

No one else among them knew how it was to feel like—no, to _be_ —a monster.

The only thing he couldn't tell El about was Mike. What would he say?

"Hi El, I know you're dating Mike and everything, but I wouldn't mind getting to hold his hand too."

"Or kiss him."

"I think I've wanted to kiss him for a very long time."

"Maybe I still am a monster."

"Maybe I always was one."

She would hate him and Mike would too—and Will wouldn't even blame them—so he took those words, buried them away deep in his chest where no one would hear them, and felt very, very alone.

Nothing could beat the abysmal loneliness of the Upside Down, but this was a close second.

* * *

Dustin twirled his spaghetti onto his spork. "You guys," he started. "Do you think I should ask anyone out to the dance?"

"Well," Max said from where she was leaning against Lucas and opening a bag of chips, the crinkling of the bag near silent against the din of the cafeteria. "It's in two days, so if you're going to, you should ask someone pretty soon."

"I'm not sure who though," Dustin said through a mouthful of chewed up pasta, marinara sauce bloodying his tongue.

"Gross, Dustin," said Lucas, wrinkling up his nose. "Maybe Heather B.? From biology?"

Mike shook his head. "I sit next to her and she keeps a photo of her boyfriend glued in her notebook."

"You could ask Jennifer Hayes," Will offered.

Mike squinted at him from across the table, eyebrows knitting together in confusion and nose scrunching up. "But _you_ like Jennifer Hayes."

Will's heart sank right through his chest and onto the scuffed linoleum floor.

 _No_ , he wanted to say. _You guys just_ think _I like Jennifer Hayes. I guess she's nice enough, but I don't want to go to the dance with her. I don't want to hold her hand. I don't want to kiss her. I don't think I want to kiss_ any _girl, for that matter. I want—_

He swallowed the words down and shrugged instead, trying to ignore how Mike and El's arms rested against each other as they sat together at the table, touching easily through their sweaters.

"I…I don't think I like her anymore."

"Oh," Mike said, sounding mildly surprised and maybe even a little hurt that Will hadn't mentioned it to him. "Okay."

El watched him intently. Her dark eyes were profoundly striking despite her youth, and it sort of made Will uncomfortable when her gaze was on him too long. It was like she could see right through him, like she was stripping him bare down to the bones.

Will kept a straight face until the attention shifted from back to Dustin, who was bemoaning the fact that there wasn't a single girl in school who resembled Leia Organa. El looked away too, but he couldn't shake the feeling somehow she had sensed something in him. Read his thoughts somehow.

No one tried to come up with a date for Will in the rest of lunch, and he was glad. The thought of it alone made his palms sweat and his stomach twist, and not in the good way.

(Not at like when he hugged Mike.)

* * *

The day before the dance, Will went to Mike's house.

He hugged his mother goodbye in the car. She still insisted on driving him places and dropping him off, and he was probably the only freshman whose mom picked him up from school. It was a little smothering sometimes, but he had realized that maybe it was more for _her_ peace of mind than his. She deserved that, after all they had been through.

"Have fun, baby," she mouthed at him through the car window; it had steamed up from how cold it was outside.

He walked across the dried grass on the Wheelers' lawn before she pulled away from the curb. It was surprisingly unkempt now, but he knew that by summer it would be a carpet of neat, endless green, the very picture of suburban flawlessness.

Will shivered as he stood at their doorstep and rang the doorbell, pulling his windbreaker closer around him so the wind wouldn't seep through his shirt. It hadn't been the coldest of winters so far, but he hated it anyway.

It reminded him too much of the Upside Down and the Shadow Monster and the all-consuming cold he had felt spread inside him both times—so cold he ached everywhere, so cold he thought he'd never thaw, so cold he felt phantom shivers run through him for months after.

So cold he felt like a corpse.

Will wanted nothing more than to be indoors these days, where it was safe and warm.

He rang the doorbell twice more and Nancy answered the door before he could start panicking. He liked Nancy. She made his brother uncharacteristically cheerful these days, and she always made sure to hug Will when they saw each other in the school hallways, protective of him in a way that she had never been before the Shadow Monster.

"Hey, Will," she said, smiling at him softly. "Come on in. Mike's in the basement, I think."

Over the years, the Wheeler basement had transformed from a modest basement into a gathering place, a congregation room, a safe haven where epic adventures were carried out and plans were made. It was a little dusty and cluttered with random debris and boxes of old toys and clothing, but it was like a second home to the party.

Will padded down the carpeted stairs and sure enough, Mike was down there, sitting cross-legged on the worn shag rug and balancing a history textbook in his lap, his dark hair messy where he'd evidently run a hand through it in frustration.

"Hey," said Will.

Mike looked up. "Hey!" he said, his face immediately brightening.

Will loved Mike's smile. It was so open and unreserved and honest that Will couldn't help but smile back, a reflex he'd developed over the years.

"I radioed the others and no one else can make it today," Mike told Will when he had settled down at his side on the floor and both the textbook and Will's jacket had been unceremoniously cast aside. "Lucas is out with Max, Dustin is doing something with his mom, and El is, according to Hopper, getting sick." He ticked off a finger with each name.

Will frowned. "That's not good."

"Yeah," Mike sighed. "Guess it's just you and me alone."

"Just you and me alone," Will echoed, even though he never felt alone when he was with Mike.

They both looked at each other and smiled, cozy and familiar in the shadowy safety of the basement, and Will felt something warm bloom in his chest.

* * *

It was getting late and Will knew his mother would be coming back to pick him up soon, but he desperately didn't want to leave.

It was nice being there in the basement with Mike. They hadn't been alone together in a long time.

They had fiddled around on the Atari for a bit—both of them were still total amateurs compared to Max and Dustin—and then given up and started talking.

Now, hours later, Mike was spread out on his back next to Will, his feet propped on the weird wood paneling on the wall, complaining about school.

"—just so much pointless work," he was saying. "Plus Nancy had Mrs. Baker when she was in our grade, so of course she expects me to be like Nancy, but history isn't my strong suit!" He pointed a socked foot in the direction of the offending textbook, still dumped on the floor.

Will nodded, trying to bring his attention back to what Mike was saying instead of the way his dark curls scattered across the rug, how his long eyelashes brushed against his cheeks when he blinked, the straight line of his nose, the slender column of his neck that appeared when he tipped his head back.

Will still wasn't sure these were things he was supposed to notice, even though he'd been noticing them for a while lately. It made him feel a strange, stomach-swirling guilt sometimes, and he wondered if Mike ever realized that he was being—weird. Inappropriate. But he never seemed to, always turning his head and grinning at him and saying something kind, never aware that Will's eyes had flicked away in shame just seconds ago.

"You're doing fine," Will assured him when he had torn his gaze away from freckles scattered across Mike's cheeks, looking determinedly into his eyes and nowhere else. "You and Lucas have the best grades in our class."

Mike shrugged despite looking rather pleased that Will had noticed, his shoulder bumping Will's because of their proximity. It was the slightest and most casual of touches, but Will's shoulder felt like it had been set on fire, tingly and spreading warmth down his arm all the way to his fingertips.

"Okay, fine," Mike conceded, and Will could detect just a hint of pride in his voice. "El's doing pretty good in school too, considering everything. Especially since Jonathan and Nancy started tutoring her."

"I'm glad," Will said, and he was.

"I wonder what she'll look like at the dance."

"Really pretty, probably," said Will, smiling weakly. El _was_ pretty and she had looked lovely at the Snow Ball last year. Will had seen through the crowd of students dancing how Mike looked at her when she arrived, how they had held hands, how they'd kissed. Then the girl who'd asked him to dance had shifted and he'd lost sight of them, leaving him hyperaware of her waist under his hands and how hot and uncomfortable the overhead lights made him feel.

Mike grinned up at the ceiling and a knot worked its way into Will's stomach, taut and painful.

Suddenly Mike gasped and turned his head to Will, eyes wide. "We were so busy trying to find Dustin a date that we didn't find you one!"

Will gave up on trying to keep his stomach from hurting and just let himself ache with it.

"It's okay," he said, sounding even to himself a little bit like he was being strangled. "Really."

"No it isn't! We gotta find you someone."

"No, really. I…don't think I like anyone right now."

( _That's a lie_ , Will's brain accused him. _You like Mike._

It still kind of scared him, thinking things like that. It made it—his feelings, the screwed-up affection he felt for Mike, whatever _it_ was—seem too real. It wasn't supposed to be real and it wasn't supposed to _be_ at all, but the feeling was as familiar as Mike was. It just seemed to get bigger and _more_  as time went on and Will didn't know what to do with himself anymore.)

Mike frowned. "I mean—okay."

"Besides, I don't even know how to dance," Will said, hoping that Mike would leave it, that it would be the end of this conversation. If they kept going, Will feared he might say something heartfelt and uncalled for.

Besides, it was true. His mom had tried teaching him last year, but he really had been a hot mess when he'd stepped onto the dance floor.

"Well. I don't either, really," Mike said. "But maybe I can help you figure it out. So if you find someone to dance with, you can."

Will blinked at him.

"I'll help you figure it out. Come on." Mike stood up and reached out a hand to Will.

Will's heart sped up. It was a terrible idea, but Mike looked so earnest that he found himself taking his hand anyway. He hoped Mike wouldn't mind how sweaty his palms had suddenly become.

 _This is unfair to El_ , he thought as he put his hands around Mike's neck.

 _This is unfair to Mike_ , he thought as Mike explained how to move to the music, ending his explanation with a laugh and an "I think that's how you do it, at least."

 _This is unfair_ , Will thought over and over until he wasn't sure what exactly it was that was unfair anymore. Then he stopped thinking at all and let himself sway with Mike to the imaginary music, let himself feel the way Mike was warm through his worn, knit sweater; the way his hands bled heat into Will's waist where he had put them, where they felt good and right; the way he smiled encouragingly and mouthed "You've got it!"; the way he looked right at Will, his dark eyes fond and soft like they always were when directed at him, even when the Shadow Monster had taken over; the way Will's cheeks were hot and his hands were clammy and his stomach was swoopy and his head was dizzy with the urge to bridge the gap between them and just kiss Mike on the mouth, stronger that it had ever been.

Will stopped thinking and let himself stand there and dance with Mike until he faintly heard his mother's car pull up outside.

* * *

On the way back home, his mother put on the radio and Will sat in the passenger seat and tried to process it all.

He had danced with Mike. He had actually _danced_ with _Mike._ His heart was still beating a little too fast.

"Had a good time?" his mother asked.

"Yeah," said Will hoarsely. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean, yeah, I did."

"That's great, baby." Joyce flicked through radio stations with one hand and drove with the other.

Will looked out the window at the trees rushing past and felt some semblance of naïve, silly hope flicker near his heart. It tended to pop up now and then, and for the first time in a while, he didn't quash it.

The car cruised through the backroads of Hawkins, and his mother finally landed on a station halfway through playing Every Breath You Take by the Police.

He froze instinctually, every inch of the good, fuzzy feeling that had filled up his chest over the course of the evening instantly dissolving.

He _hated_ that song.

* * *

On the day of the dance, everyone at school was distracted, watching the clock in the hopes of somehow making it run faster. The teachers, needless to say, were exasperated.

Even his friends seemed giddier than usual as they discussed what they would wear to the dance. It almost made Will forget that they were in high school. ("I think I'll just wear the same suit." "Are you really sure you didn't outgrow it?" "You guys are so lucky you can wear almost anything. The dress code for girls is so strict, which is _such_ bullshit.")

Will just zoned out, Every Breath You Take playing on loop in his mind, as irritating as the buzz of a mosquito in the summer or Jonathan insisting on playing a record that was clearly broken. He wondered how they'd all grown up without even noticing and why it felt like they'd all grown up without him.

He willed the song away. It stubbornly played itself again.

Eleven was absent, though, and Will could feel how worried Mike was under the façade of his excitement. He kept shaking his leg, his brow creased and his shoulders tense. Will wanted to wrap him up in a hug.

"I'm sure El's fine," Will leaned over his desk and whispered to Mike in English.

Mike looked up from the notes he'd been scrawling into his notebook. "Yeah, you're right."

"She's fine," Will said, and gently put his hand on Mike's knee. Mike stopped shaking it and slumped down in his chair.

"You're right," he repeated.

Will pulled his hand away before the teacher turned away from the board and tried to ignore the memory of hands placed on hips and necks that had inconveniently popped up. "Anytime."

( _For you, anything, anytime_ , he thought, and frantically tried to unthink it. It wasn't something best friends thought about best friends, and certainly not something Will could think about Mike.)

(His self-reprimand sounded halfhearted even in his head.)

(Sometimes he really did feel like he was going crazy.)

* * *

"You don't think it's weird that we're going to be at the same dance?" Will asked Jonathan that evening as they got ready for the dance, combing their hair together in the dim light of the bathroom.

"What do you mean, bud?"

"I don't know."

"I don't think it's weird," Jonathan said, smiling at him as he adjusted his tie with his comb still in his hand. Their mother had tied both of theirs because neither of them had ever been able to figure it out.

"I just don't feel like I'm in high school sometimes. I feel so small and—and different," Will said finally and examined himself in the mirror: short, slight, still looking like a kid, even though he had dark circles under his eyes.

There. He'd finally said the thing he'd been thinking all day, all week, all year.

"Somehow my friends seem so much more—I don't know," Will rushed to explain when Jonathan was silent for a bit.

He pointed at Will with his comb. "You're great, Will, and people don't grow up in a day. Just give yourself some time."

"I guess."

"You guess?"

"It's just that everyone's there and excited to grow up and be happy again and have girlfriends and I'm just…just stuck." Will took a breath and tried to stop, but the words forced themselves out. "And I still have those stupid nightmares and I feel like a baby and I feel so…alone even though I'm know I'm _not_ , which just makes me feel worse."

Jonathan put his hand firmly on Will's shoulder. "Hey," he said. "Slow down."

"Sorry."

"Okay," said Jonathan when he had let go. "About the nightmares? You have to talk to us. Will, you need to tell us these things, me or Mom or Hopper or Dr. Owens or even your friends. You're not alone."

Will nodded silently. It was something he'd been told countless times before and it still didn't seem completely true, but he supposed if he believed it enough, it might be.

"You're gonna be fine. Give yourself time, buddy. You'll be unstuck soon, I promise."

Will nodded again.

"And about the girlfriend thing? Honestly, relationships aren't everything. You'll find a really nice…girl someday, don't worry."

Will almost nodded one more time, but then he thought of freckles and soft knit sweaters and the way the basement smelled and swinging on the first day of kindergarten and loud laughter and realizing his father had been right all along and excitedly rolling dice and an arm slung around his shoulders and the sleeping bag in his room that only one person used and the friendly presence at the side of a hospital bed and barely-there hand touches and a single tear trickling down a cheek and soft grins and butterfly swarms in stomachs—

And then he heard himself ask, almost as if someone else standing very far away had said it from behind a glass wall, "What if I'm worrying because I don't want to find a girl at all?"

A pause.

Then the exact implications of what he had said hit him and he gasped too late and too loudly, the air in his lungs knocked out like someone had punched him right in the gut.

Jonathan blinked at him wordlessly.

Blood roared in his ears like a train barreling just past him and his heart pounded unevenly in his throat and chest and wrists. Tears gathered at his eyes, hot and searing and threatening to spill over. His father's voice muttered something contemptuously in the back of his mind, indiscernible through the overwhelming onslaught of panic and white noise filling his ears.

He couldn't breathe.

How could he  _possibly_  have said that out loud?

"Hey," Jonathan said, more softly than Will had ever heard him speak. "It's okay. I know."

Will squeezed his eyes shut and prayed the floor would swallow him whole. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream until his throat was raw, he wanted to apologize, he wanted to cry, he wanted to take it back. He wanted he wanted he―

"It's okay if you don't, you know...if you don't like girls. Hey, Will. It's okay. Liking boys is—you're—it's okay."

Will shook his head desperately as an inhuman sob climbed its way through his throat and wracked his body, deafening in the silence of the bathroom.

Jonathan didn't say anything more, just hugged him tightly as the tears burned trails down his cheeks and held him until the tenseness in his shoulders eased up.

* * *

When they finally emerged, their mother insisted on taking photos of them together. Jonathan taught her how to use his camera—he was the school photographer, so he would be taking it to the dance as well—and she made them stand in the most well-lit corner of the house before consecutively taking about a dozen photos.

"You both look so good," she told them proudly, sniffling a bit and rubbing at her misty eyes. "My boys."

Will stepped forward and hugged her tightly, still shaken from what had happened in the bathroom. Jonathan wrapped them both up in his arms, squeezing Will meaningfully.

For a moment they all stood there together, warm and loving; he had the best family ever, probably. (He hoped neither of them felt him shaking. He couldn't seem to stop.)

They finally left after Joyce hurriedly reminded them how to dance—"You just go one, two, three, four with your feet, like a box." "We _know_ , Mom!"—and hugged them again. It had taken some convincing for her not to drive them to the dance and wait outside but, in the end, she had finally trusted Jonathan take Will this year. Maybe it meant they were slowly learning to live again, all three of them.

In the car, they rolled down the windows halfway and sang along to Queen as they drove towards the Wheeler house to pick up Mike and Nancy.

Jonathan didn't bring up the conversation in the bathroom and Will dully hoped that somehow the rest of the evening would be okay, that somehow this year's dance would be better than the Snow Ball.

When they pulled up, Jonathan let the song that was playing finish and turned to Will solemnly. His stomach lurched despite himself. It was going to be about what he had said, that he didn't like…that he liked—that Mike—

"Hey, Will. Thanks for trusting me," Jonathan said and Will nodded, his throat dry, and then his brother was turning away and opening the car door and the whole situation was so much easier than he had thought it would be. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and followed his brother out into the frigid air.

They stepped up onto the porch of the Wheelers' house and rang the doorbell.

"Hi," a voice said as the door swung open. Will let the heat that was coming from inside the house seep into him and tried not to exhale in relief.

Nancy stood in the doorway; she looked beautiful. She smiled at them and smoothed down her dress, a flattering number with a ruffled skirt and a neckline that left her delicate shoulders exposed.

"Hi Nancy," said Will.

"Hi," Jonathan managed breathlessly. He stepped forward, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her hard, right there on the doorstep where everyone in the neighborhood could see.

Mike popped up from behind Nancy's shoulder and pulled a face. "Gross, you guys."

They sprung apart, both of their cheeks flushed.

"Shut up, Mike," Nancy said, grinning lopsidedly. "I'll go tell my mom we're leaving." She turned around and disappeared into the house in a whirl of teased hair and floral perfume.

"We're gonna be late, probably," Mike told Will conspiratorially, stepping out into the cold and leaning in so close it made Will's knees weak. "I think she's going back upstairs to fix her makeup."

"Well, I think she looks nice," Will said back in the same hushed tone.

Evidently, so did Jonathan. He watched the empty doorway she had left behind and looked rather lovesick.

Mike looked nice too. ( _Nicer than Nancy_ , Will added silently.) His hair was getting longer and wavier; it swept across his forehead and curled behind his ears in soft-looking strands that Will wanted reach out and slide his fingers through. He wore the same suit as he did last year—it was a little short at the ankles now from how much he had grown and he wore a different tie—but Will didn't think he'd ever tire of seeing Mike in it. He even caught a whiff of something pleasant as Mike stood next to him, some kind of cologne that smelled faintly of fire and spice and vanilla frosted Pop-Tarts.

When Nancy reappeared in fresh lipstick, they piled into the car and finally left for the school. Nancy and Jonathan sat up front and sang at the top of their lungs to the shitty pop songs on the radio. Only Nancy could make him listen to even half a second of that kind of music, and Will pointed it to Mike as they air-drummed along in the backseat. It was like magic.

He tried not to focus on how their knees knocked together with every bump in the road. Everything was casual and friendly and fine.

 _Actually, no_ , he amended a second later, when Mike stretched his legs across Will's lap so they were pressed flush against each other, sending Will's heart into overdrive. It was _more_ than fine.

The car windows were open and his best friend ever was at his side and the moon was full in the sky and his brother didn't hate him and Will was alive and happy and things were good.

When they pulled up at the school parking lot, the music was thrumming straight through the walls of the building, the bass loud enough for Will to feel it in his chest.

Jonathan parked sloppily and they ran in through the double doors—they weren't late after all—and when they had signed in and entered the building, Will audibly gasped.

The cafeteria didn't look like the grimy place they had lunch everyday at all. There were silver garlands and tulle banners hanging across the ceiling and little golden lights winding across the walls. Glittering snowflakes cutouts hung from the ceiling, and everyone seemed to be washed over with a near-ethereal light.

"Oh," Nancy breathed. (Will agreed with her wholeheartedly.)

Jonathan gave Will a thumbs-up before disappearing with Nancy into the smaller crowd of older kids hanging out by the bleachers and passing around a silver flask that probably wasn't filled with punch. Will spotted Steve somewhere among them, looking completely unamused before catching sight of his friends and practically lighting up.

Mike scanned the crowd of students that had filled up the room and turned to Will. "We should find everyone else."

"I think they've found us already," Will said. He pointed at Max, weaving across the room to them with Lucas in tow.

"Hey!" she called out over the music, waving at them. They waved back.

She had cut her hair. It was came down to her chin and was pinned up with a silver hair clip. Lucas was looking at her like no one else in the room existed.

"You guys look great!" Mike said.

"Thanks!" Max said, smiling brightly, swinging her head a bit so her choppy orange hair swished about. It really did suit her.

"Where's El?" Lucas asked.

It was almost comical how quickly Mike's face fell, like something incredibly devastating had suddenly occurred to him, the happiness there vanishing so quickly Will almost wasn't sure if it had ever been there. "So she's really not here."

"What happened?" said Max. She and Lucas exchanged a frightened glance.

(That was the bad part about living through trauma together. No matter how much time had passed and how much better they had all gotten, there was always a scared, skittish instinct that came out and made them want to draw closer together, not let anyone out of their sight. It was animalistic and illogical and Will blamed himself for it, for putting them in so much danger that they couldn't laugh off the things most kids their age would have.)

"Well, I called her today and she's still really sick, she had a bad fever and everything and Hopper said he's keeping her home. I hoped she'd be able to make it but…"

Something panged sharply in Will's chest and he couldn't really tell if it was sympathy or disappointment or relief or shame.

"I'm so sorry, man," Lucas said. "Maybe she'll show up."

"Yeah," Mike said dejectedly. He took a breath. "Anyway, where's Dustin?"

Max laughed and pointed just beyond them. "Look!"

He was dancing with a pretty girl—was she even in their grade?—as smooth as could be, beaming proudly when he spotted them over her shoulder.

"I bet he's gonna get more girls than Steve," Will remarked.

Lucas snorted. "Steve doesn't get _that_ many girls. He just wants people to think he does."

They all migrated to the other side of the room as the song ended, and Dustin caught up with them at the food table.

"Who was she?" Lucas asked immediately.

"A sophomore," said Dustin giddily, and they all chorused their oohs.

"Tonight is gonna be good," Max declared and Will agreed, even though Mike still sort of looked like someone told him his grandma had just died. Was Mike's grandma even alive? Will didn't know.

He brushed his hand against Mike's and held himself back from grasping it.

* * *

Will almost forgot about it: the way he had been looking at the cheap yellow bathroom light as he started, "What if I'm worried because—", the feeling he had when he realized that all the unspoken words he kept inside him had finally spilled out of their own accord, the frantic relief that came when Jonathan hugged him anyway, so different from all the kids who had called him slurs in middle school, so different from his own shitty father.

Will danced and laughed with his friends and almost, almost let it slip his mind.

* * *

The dance wasn't nearly as awkward as the Snowball.

There, everyone had been tentative to dance, uncomfortable and tense with the awareness that boys and girls were there together in a totally new environment.

Here, Max shook her head wildly and pretended to shred a guitar and Lucas grabbed Will and spun him around as he yelled and Dustin tried to breakdance to Madonna while Mike watched and laughed.

Friends chatted easily with each other over the music and couples made out behind the teachers' backs and the upperclassmen sat down and rolled their eyes good-naturedly at the uncoolness of a school dance, too sophisticated to be there but somehow present anyway.

Steve caught Will's eye from across the room and winked at him, his hair as fluffy as ever. (Steve wasn't very good at winking; his other eye closed a little too and it just looked like a spastic blink.)

Or maybe it wasn't that everyone else was more comfortable. Maybe it was just that, inexplicably, Will was.

He sat down at a table and tried to catch his breath. Mike fell into the plastic folding chair next to him, breathing heavily.

"You good?" Mike asked.

He nodded. "I don't think I've ever danced this much in my life."

"Me neither."

Mike was slightly sweaty and his hair was frizzing a bit and his tie was askew but Will thought he looked prettier than ever. They looked at each other and smiled as Dustin laughed distantly from somewhere just to the left of them.

"I'm sorry El couldn't make it," Will said, immediately wincing. Why would he bring that up when Mike finally looked happier? _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Mike's smile dimmed a little and his eyes softened as he considered the nature of her absence. Will cursed himself internally.

"It's fine," Mike said. "It's not like we have to be together all the time. I just…I don't know. So much has happened that I like knowing she's alright."

Something about the last sentence clicked. It took Will a second to realize he felt the same way when Mike wasn't with him. It should have fazed him, but it didn't. It just made sense.

"I understand," he said, and he really did.

Mike looked out into the crowd of teenagers that had filled the cafeteria, strangely contemplative despite the clamor, like he was watching the ocean. Will hadn't ever been to the ocean. He hoped he and Mike would see it someday.

"I like knowing you're alright too," Mike remarked suddenly.

"Oh," Will said. It was such a simple thing for Mike to say, but he could his cheeks heating up. He didn't blush very easily but now, when his cheeks were already flushed from the body heat inside the building and moving around so much, his face felt like it could melt ice.

Mike turned back and looked straight at him, leaning forward so his suit jacket wrinkled and crossing his wrists where they rested between his knees. "You know, I'm really glad you're okay after everything. I feel like I don't say it enough, but you're my best friend ever. You mean so much to me and you're the bravest person I know. I don't know what I—what we'd have done if you…"

"Hey, I'm okay."

"I know, but just—please don't get possessed again."

It was such an absurd request that a laugh bubbled out of Will. "I'll try my best not to."

"Promise," Mike repeated, his eyes flicking across Will's face.

His tone was light, joking, but the whole thing seemed oddly familiar to Will. It hit him that Mike was looking at him the same way he had when they were sitting on his bed in their Ghostbusters costumes on Halloween last year. His eyes were soft and full of fondness that made Will want to lean forward and touch him; his mouth was upturned in a half-smile that made it seem like they had been caught swapping secrets, like there was no one else in the world except for them.

"I promise."

"Good," Mike said, and they both giggled.

The song that had been playing ended and there was a second where only the soft voices of people talking filled the air. Then the synths started up. It was clear this was a slow song, the first ballad of the night.

The chatter died down a bit as people paired up, girls winding their hands around boys' necks as they gathered at the center of the room, hands lacing and bodies beginning to sway together to the beat. Will saw Lucas's head in the middle of the crowd and Max's bright ginger hair next to it, their arms looped around each other. Dustin was probably near them, and he thought he had caught a glimpse of Jonathan and Nancy.

When he turned back to Mike, there was something new in Mike's expression that made him stop short of what he had been about to say, some dumb joking thing about having no one to dance with, and that it was _fine_ really, and he was sorry El wasn't here because now Mike didn't have anyone to dance with either.

His eyes looked darker, impossibly deep under the silvery glow of lights winding across the room, washing over his skin and turning his hair into spun threads of silver. He was so beautiful Will could hardly stand it, could hardly believe this was his best friend. He wanted to reach out and trace the lines of his face, soft and boyish but slowly being carved into something more angular and striking, brush his knuckles across the sprinkling of freckles. His hand twitched at his side with the urge to do it.

Then Mike said something. Will watched his lips shape the words and didn't make out a single one.

He blinked and refocused. "Wait, what?"

Mike smiled wonkily. "I said, we should dance."

"We should?"

"Yeah," he said, without hesitation.

Will's heart was going to beat right out of his chest and he couldn't quite tell if it was from excitement or sheer, unbridled terror.

Will thought about it. They were both boys, and Hawkins was hardly a place where things like that were accepted. Will had been called stupid names for years in middle school, and though most people had dropped them in favor of Zombie Boy, it wasn't unusual to hear them, even now. They were bad enough when directed at him, and he didn't want Mike to go through the same thing just because he was being a good, considerate friend.

The fact that Mike was being a good, considerate friend was another thing. It didn't seem fair, to dance with Mike next to all those couples, to harbor feelings when Mike thought they were just friends dancing and goofing off together. It made Will feel sort of guilty, like he was taking advantage of Mike's unceasing kindness, the kindness that Mike showed Will again and again, ever since they had become friends in kindergarten.

 _And El_ , Will remembered with dismay. It didn't seem fair to her either.

"I don't even know how to dance!" he protested finally, unsure how to voice his concerns.

"I don't either, really," Mike said. "But maybe I can help you figure it out."

_Oh._

He remembered those words and, judging by the way he was smiling at him like they were sharing a joke, Mike did too. Will held back a matching, involuntary smile.

Mike stood up and reached his hand out expectantly. "Come on!"

"Mike, I don't—"

"Oh, come on," he said again. "The song's gonna end!"

It was a terrible idea. (It was a great idea.)

 _Screw it_ , Will thought after a second. He'd had enough of holding back and feeling so goddamn alone, like he was always one step behind everyone else.

He took Mike's hand and Mike pulled him up and out of the chair and they ended up right in the middle of the sea of dancing kids in a blur of movement that made Will dizzy.

They were really doing this, then.

They fumbled for a second, trying to fit themselves together the same way everyone else had. Mike put his hands on Will's hips tentatively, as if he was scared he would shatter, and Will looped his arms around Mike's neck clumsily. His arms felt too long and Mike felt too tall and it seemed like everyone's eyes were glued to them in disgusted fascination.

It was nothing like when they had danced cozily in the basement. It was all wrong.

"You keep your distance with a system of touch," the singer crooned through the speakers at the front of the room; something about the line took Will aback.

And then Mike was rolling his eyes good-naturedly and stepping closer, his hold tightening as he leaned in, and Will relaxed and settled into the position. He looked around, and it turned out that nobody was even watching them, too caught up in each other to care much about two boys dancing.

 _Two friends dancing_ , Will reminded himself. Emphasis on the _friends_ part.

It was hard to remember that though, when Mike was so close Will could smell the fading cologne on him, so close that if he took one step forward they'd be kissing.

The silver lights twinkled over their heads in the relative darkness of the dance floor and something in Will still itched to trace the light across the lines of Mike's face, but this—this was _so_ much better.

They swayed together softly and Will's heart pounded in time to the song, the lyrics registering distantly in his head. His thumb slipped from where it rested on Mike's collar and onto his neck, and Will's stomach dropped like he'd been shocked, a spark traveling from the spot where their skin touched and spreading to his insides, a sensation so warm and so much he felt like he was burning up.

Will felt dizzy with it, drunk, and as they shuffled in the crowd of students it all came in flashes: the sweep of Mike's dark eyelashes, his quick pulse against Will's thumb at his neck, the glint of white when he grinned, their feet bumping against each other on the floor.

The chorus of the song came around, and Mike's face lit up with recognition. "Tears for Fears," he exclaimed softly, and mouthed along with the lyrics: "Something happens and I'm head over heels—"

Will flushed red and smiled down at the ground. It was just the song playing, he knew, but it felt almost like Mike was singing it to him. His heart wasn't slowing down and he wanted to lean forward and kiss Mike as he murmured the song, melt into him and dance there forever.

When he'd lifted his eyes, he spotted Jonathan on the outskirts of the dance floor with Nancy, near the garlands on the wall and behind a junior with a mass of teased hair. Jonathan looked back and forth between them, more amused than confused. The teasing eyebrow raise he shot in their direction made Will bury his head in Mike's shoulder.

He tensed for a second and looked up, ready to step back and apologize—had he overstepped boundaries?—but Mike locked eyes with him warmly and didn't shove him away, just huffed out a laugh into Will's hair, hugging him tightly to his chest as the last chorus played and the synths faded out. Will grinned giddily against the fabric of his suit.

He stopped thinking, just let himself stand there and dance with Mike.

Things were good.

("Funny how time flies," Tears for Fears sang in the background.)

**Author's Note:**

> this was more slow burn than i expected, but sit tight! part two will be up very soon to wrap things up, i promise!
> 
> (also disclaimer: el doesn't get hurt if anyone was worried because she deserves the world and i wouldn't dream of writing something where she's sidelined and neglected!)
> 
> (feedback is always appreciated <3)


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